


After Honey with Balloons

by Kt_fairy



Series: Oranges [5]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety, Body Image, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Food, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Weight Issues, cait makes an appearance but she doesn't speak but i still want her tagged cause I'm love her, discussions of weight issues, lots of talk about eating and relationships to food, undergrads being idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 03:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12027354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kt_fairy/pseuds/Kt_fairy
Summary: The chair creaked when Dex got up to cross the small patch of empty floor between them, sliding into Derek’s personal space and settling his broad, rough hands on the band of his low slung boxers, running his thumbs over the less defined cut of Derek's hips, “You’re the hottest person I have ever seen. That won’t change. Yeah, when it’s mid season and you’re just...you know…” he trailed the backs of his fingers over the shadow of Derek's abs, “...muscle, that’s sexy as hell. But you’re also sexy as hell softer, like this,” he dug a thumb into his hip gently,”You being happy is the most important thing, and that's how I like you best.”





	After Honey with Balloons

**Author's Note:**

> This series was originally going to be just three stories, three is a nice round number for stories usually, but as soon as I published Looking for Sunshine I realised that I didn't want to leave the whole thing where that ended, 'cause as much as I love Dex - and even though the ending was kinda about Nursey's self awareness or whatever-, this series is not about him. 
> 
> (That's only half the truth, I still had more to get out of my system. Not sorry)

      

 

 Derek’s dad spotted them as soon as they stepped into the restaurant, Derek catching his big, bright smile from across the room as he got up to wave them in, his personality so huge it always felt like he filled up wherever he went (and sometimes, inadvertently, took over).

“Look at you my boy! Don’t you look so big and healthy!”, he declared, holding Derek at arms length to take him in before dragging him in for a big, bone creaking hug, “I missed you like always.”

“I missed you too dad”, Derek said into his shoulder, squeezing back before stepping away, unable to not smile right back at his dad’s beaming face, “These are…”

“Ah yes! The other two members of this little triad ya’ have goin’ on”, he turned to Dex and Chis, Derek groaning because he knew what was coming, “Now, which one of you is Christopher Chow?”, it was one of his favourite jokes, always so pleased with himself about it. Chris laughed, playing along as he pointed at Dex who was looking amused despite how nervous he was, running his hand down his tie for the hundredth time since he put it on, “I've heard just enough about you two to know ya’ get up to some things, but your good for my boy so I’m pleased to meet the both of you.”

 He had grown up in Trinidad, and it was hard to explain but you could see he did not carry the weight that Derek sometimes felt as a black american, something about him that made a few people uneasy because he was not the kind of black man they were used to, but Chris and Dex were both at ease as they shook his hand with a couple of genuine pleased-to-meet-you-sir’s. 

“Polite boys. Not like some of your friends from Andover, thinking they could just give me a _nickname_ ”, he directed it pointedly at Derek who rolled his eyes back it him. They called his dad Uncle Phil because he was a badass black lawyer like the guy from Fresh Prince, one day it had slipped out and his dad had pretended to be unimpressed by it ever since, “Sit down, sit down! We came in here when we first dropped Derek off and the food was electric. I hope it’s still up to standard.”

  He got along with Chris immediately because it was Chris and he was easy going and intelligent and earnest, the two of them chattering away like old friends as Dex sat there awkwardly, getting more and more quiet the longer Derek's dad went about becoming Chris' new best friend.

 Derek reached out under the table and put his hand on Dex’s thigh, letting it sit there as a comforting weight. After a moment Dex put his hand on top of Derek’s so he turned his palm up, slotting their fingers together. He looked over at Dex and squeezed his hand until he glanced at him, “Love you”, Derek whispered, smiling at the bashful quirk of Dex' lips as he blushed at him.

 Chris was grinning at them when Derek turned back to the conversation, his dad raising one perfect eyebrow but thankfully did not make a comment.

 Dex eased up a bit after that, looking pleased with himself when Derek’s dad found his dry jokes amusing, chirping Chris about bigging himself up, pretending to look the other way when Derek stole some of his very much not dairy-free ice cream.

“I never disliked your friends from Andover, Derek, but there were all of a type. Wanting to get ahead in the world without _living_ in it. My mother would call them soulless. The ones you have now are good friends to have, good people”, his dad said to him as they walked to their cars after dinner, Dex and Chris trailing behind them. 

“What do umm, you think of Will?” 

“I think he has a bit more thawing to do around me”, his dad said diplomatically.

“He’s from upstate Maine, he’s practically a shut in”, Derek muttered and his dad laughed, "No, really, I don't think he met any new people from like nine until he came here. The guys really badly socialised, but he's grow over the time I’ve known him, and he’s got a good heart, which is what you always said is the most important.”

“Hmmm...but I also think you find those shoulders and aaall those freckles important too. Ahhhhhh!”, he waggled his finger at Derek when he tried to protest, bumping him with his shoulder, “Don’t go trying to fool me, I know my own son too well for that!”, he glanced behind them before leaning in closer to Derek, “He may be your typical white boy but from what you've told me about how he helps you, and how obvious it is you both care about one another, I’ll go easy on him.”

“There’s a coconut and lime pie in the car he made for you.”

 Derek’s dad stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk and turned towards Dex, “You made me pie, William?”

“Uuuh... yes sir.”

“You bake?”

"A bit.”

“You cook?”

“...yeah.”

 Derek’s dad turned to give him another once over, “No-wonder you’re looking so well fed, son”, held out an arm and ushered Dex under it, walking off down the sidewalk with him, “I’m going to send Derek some recipes he loves so you can try them out. They’re old family one’s that I may have tweaked a little…”

 Chris came and stood next to Derek, “I have a feeling you’ve created a monster.”

“If that monster gets me macaroni pie and bainghan chokha without me having to do all the work then it can do what it wants”, he said, running a hand over his stomach. It was off season, they all lost form and put on weight, but what the hell did well fed mean? Unless… 

“Urgh”, Derek groaned, tipping his head back, “I think my anti-depressants are making me fat.”

“You sure it’s not Bitty’s stress baking turned up to eleven ‘cause of finals?” 

“Okay. Maybe that a bit.”

 

                                                                                     _X_

 

 Derek loved Hockey. It gave him something tangible to aim for, something to get him moving, had stopped him giving up so many times over the years. Made him eat properly around the times when he was weirdly hungry/not-hungry and a jar of olives and half a bag of chips was the height of depression cuisine. Having Bitty and Dex making sure the fridge always had some pre-made meals in it helped, even if sometimes the easiest thing to reach for were the piles of very non-diet plan baked goods.

 Maybe, Derek wondered as he pulled off his shirt, now he was dating one of the pair making sure they weren’t all living off of chicken tenders and Sriracha it had become too easy to eat well, especially now his metabolism was out of whack.

“Dexy you’re gonna have to help me put together a new workout”, Derek announced, poking at his cheeks as he looked at himself in the closet mirror. 

“Your core is fine”, Dex huffed distractedly from where he was doing something complicated with Ford’s broken clock-radio.

 Derek turned sideways and laid a hand on his stomach, “Yeah, under all this chub.” 

“Ya what?”

“Like you haven’t noticed.” 

 Dex spun the desk chair around to face him, “We’re in the off season and have regular access to dessert, everyone falls out of shape”, Derek raised an eyebrow and Dex pulled a face, “Not putting on weight does not mean I am still in shape you know that. I could be beanpole and struggle to climb stairs”, he waved a screwdriver at him, “body shape does not equal fitness!”

“You’rd be a sexy beanpole.”

“And you’re sexy with or without your imaginary chub.”

“It’s not imaginary,” Derek said matter-of-factly as he prodded at his hip, “anti-depressants can make you put on weight.”

 Dex was silent for a moment, bottom lip twitching like it did when he was thinking of what to say, “You still look good…”

 Derek whirled around, pointing an accusing finger at Dex who had gone a guilty shade of pink, “I _knew_ you noticed! I knew it! How could you not with all this sitting on your fucking face last night!”

 “Dude! The fucking bathroom door is open!”

“It’s not like Chris thinks we sit in here and hold hands, he knows we fuck!”  

 Dex muttered darkly and turned back to the dismembered radio, “There’s nothing wrong with you. I like it, you look great.”

“I...you like it?”

 Dex’s shoulders climbed up around his ears, “Yeah.” 

“You mean you…”

“It’s not that deep, Derek. Look, I’ll help you with your new work-out but I’d dig you most way’s. I like you and, yeah...’m not that complicated”

“Oh”, Derek turned to look at himself in the mirror again, at his still defined pectorals that were just more round than they had been, “I uhh...it’s cool about the new work-out. I think I’ll leave it.”

 He could feel Dex scowling from across the room, “I hope not ‘cause of me.”

“Getting back in shape kinda was for you, really.” 

 The chair creaked when Dex got up to cross the small patch of empty floor between them, sliding into Derek’s personal space and settling his hands on the band of his low slung boxers, running his thumbs over the less defined cut of his hips. “You’re the hottest person I have ever seen. That won’t change. Yeah, when it’s mid season and you’re just...you know…” he trailed the backs of his fingers over the shadow of Derek's abs, “...muscle, that’s sexy as hell. But you’re also sexy as hell softer, like this,” he dug a thumb into his hip gently,”You being happy is the most important thing, and that's how I like you best.”

 Derek laid his arm’s on Dex’s shoulders, swaying in closer, “I think you’ve got a lot more depth than you give yourself credit for.”

 “I like what I like, and I love you. Simple as that, no mystery waiting to be uncovered there.” He raised a hand to run his palm from Derek’s shoulder to rest on his elbow, “The real mystery is why you lose your damn mind over my boney ass all the time.”

“Your ass isn’t boney. Your lower body is where literally all your body-mass is.”

“Oh ha-ha.”

 Derek smiled as he pecked Dex on the lips, “You’re good to me, you know that?”

“Not being shitty doesn't make me good.”

“Yeaaah, I suppose...but you are good to me.”

“That’s ‘cause I love you”, Dex said with a smile, laughing when Derek groaned and buried his face in Dex’s neck, “I told you, I’m not that complicated.”

 

                                                                                      _X_

 

 There was a thump next to him and Derek jumped out of his doze, peering up at Ford before settling back down against his crossed arms.

“Are you sure this is a safe distance?”, she asked, glasses case snapping open as she swapped into her vintage sunglasses.

 Derek opened an eye to look at where Chris and Dex were stabbing holes in an old piece of hosepipe, Whiskey and Tango looking on while Cait supervised, “You assume they’ll get it to work.”

“Three college science majors must be able to get it to do something.”

“They’ve got finals cabin fever and are mad hyped on coffee. That something could end up being a disaster.”

 Ford leant back on her hands with a sigh, stretching her out toes into the sunlight slanting across the yard, “At least they’re outside”, Derek hummed in agreement, looking over again to see them all having a conference around Dex’s tool box, “I'm glad you're not involved Nursey, I wanted to speak to you."

 That was...rarely a good thing,"Okay?"

 "I know it’s only my first year as manager and I still don’t know a great deal about Hockey but I am...proud of all your efforts this season”, Derek processed that then rolled onto his side so he could look at her, “I know you struggled for a large part of it for various health reasons but you kept at it, remained engaged with the team, and it looks like you came out the other side with lessons learnt. There is no pressure or demand on you, but I hope if other team members go through similar things in the future I can ask you to talk to them. _With_ them.”

 You could lean on as many people as you could find to hold you up, but sometimes with depression it all came down to you. It was not as despairing a thought as it had once been, he knew better at twenty-two than at fourteen what he needed to get through and how best to do it, had people around him now who were old enough and mature enough to help him. He had a whole team at his back, he had Chris who had been there since day one and always would be, had Dex who he really, really hoped would be there with him for a long, long time.

 But then he had moments like this, lounging in the shade watching his friends try to make a sprinkler for them to jump about in, blowing off steam in the humid afternoon heat, being given the chance to maybe, if wanted, if needed, be there for someone else who could feel as hollow as he did.

“Yeah, yeah Ford, sure. Of course. Anyone in theatre too if you know, you think it’ll help. You guys are like, so much better at this mental health shit than sports teams so uummm, you prob won’t but I thought I should, like, _offer_ …”

“You guys are much better about body image so it all...oh shit, not that that was about...uuhh.”

“It’s chill.”

“ _Shit_.”

“It is”, he’d been the one to tease Dex in Annie’s about feeding him up, he wasn’t sensitive about it, “One of the best American NHL players rn looks chubby cause of mad scary health issues, he’s got two Stanley cups, and he still gets shit for it. Don’t think that just ‘cause half of us have skinny legs and no abs that the sport doesn’t care what we look like - you’ve heard what they were like to fucking _Jack_ when he was in Juniors- but if my mad tenuous body confidence can help someone send ‘em my way. Like, I think anyone on the team would wanna help, if you asked ‘em first.”

“Sure”, a small hand patted his shoulder, “you’re good boys”, she turned her gaze to watch Tango race across the yard to the hosepipe tap, “well...at heart.”

 There was a moment of silence where everyone looked at the frankensteined sprinkler before it burst into life, water shooting into the air to a delighted yell from everyone.

“Here’s you thinking they’d never do it.”

“Managing expectations”, he grunted and she laughed.

 Chris turned to make sure Derek was looking, throwing a wink his was before laughing as he took a run up to jump through the water, tumbling into Dex who caught him easily. He had already taken his shirt off and Derek knew that in half an hour he’d be covered in hundred new freckles, would smell of sunshine and sweat, and he rested his face in his hands to watch his boyfriend get nice and drenched.

 Ford shook his arm, poking him again after he swatted at her, “What?”

“I was chirping you about not thinking they’d do it, but now I’m fining you.”

 Derek kicked his butt with his heels and shrugged, “Livin’ my best life Ford, haters don’t interact.”

 

                                                                                     _X_

 

“Hey, you gotta come to my study group’s lunch meeting”, Derek muttered into his set reading, knocking Dex’s ankle with his foot under the table.

“That sounds like a thing I don't _need_ or _want_ to do.”

“Yeah you do.”

“Iiiii think you’ll find I really don’t.” 

“Mitchell Kartheiser told me I should try eating like you to lose some weight”, Derek looked up just as Dex narrowed his eyes at him.

“He did, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Fucking...asshole! Hey Chris!”, Dex whispered towards the other end of the table, throwing a pen lid at Chris who was staring blankly at his laptop screen, “Some guy in Nursey’s study group said if he ate the same amount of food I did he’d lose weight.”

 Chris shot Derek a look of horror that quickly turned into a frown even as he giggled, “Oh dude, really?”

“Dex is gonna come to our lunch meeting and eat enough for twelve people right in front of him...”

“Hey!”

“Okay enough for ten. You wanna come C, we’re getting burgers?”

“Uh, yeah! I bet you a free shot in practice that he eats our fries as well as his.”

“I’ll eat that assholes fries as well”, Dex said loudly to huffs and sshhh-ing from the tables around them which had him gesturing wildly around the library as he declared, “I’ll eat everyone’s goddam fries!”

 

 Even by the standards of college hockey players and large, growing young people, when given half a chance Dex could _eat_. It might be because he was so highly strung, wound up so tightly with nervous energy sometimes Bitty would physically chuck him out of the Haus to make him run it off, or it might be because when he was a kid there had been a few times when there was not a lot of food, Derek had never asked. Dex didn’t want to know the ins and outs of every part of him so it was no effort at all to return the favour.

 Appetite and spite aside, there was a limit to the size of his stomach, and proving a point to some know it all arts major (Derek got the irony don’t worry) today seemed to have found it, leaving him laid out on the floor shifting in discomfort as Derek rubbed his sore tummy and tried not to laugh at him, “I appreciate you hurting yourself for my honour baby.”

“It wasn’t worth it”, Dex groaned and Derek grinned at him even though Dex had an arm thrown dramatically over his eyes.

“My knight in shining armour!”, Derek teased, propping his head up on is free hand when Dex did not rise to it and contented himself with looking at his very own idiot as he struggled to digest his revenge lunch.

“You know,” Dex said after a while, finally removing the arm from over his eyes so he could look up at the ceiling, “I know I’m not exactly a skinny waif of a boy, but I’m not, ya know,  _Ransom_. I’m a triangle, a less impressive Chris Evans dorito...” he ran a finger along the sharp hipbone peeking out over the top of his pants, “ I guess I’m...I shot up in the ninth grade, ginger kid with long skinny arms and legs and a cracking voice, a disaster, and I think I’m still like that. I haven’t realised I’m a big, I’m proportional. Or something. I dunno, ignore me.”

 Derek tore his eyes away from the path Dex’s fingers were taking, even with all his problems he was still young and Dex was still hot, stuff like that was guaranteed to get him going, “If it make’s you feel better I don’t have one single complaint”, he pointed out, tapping Dex on the tummy before scrunching his fingers into his side to tickle him.

“OH my God no don’t I’ll fart!” Dex yelled and Derek lost it, burying his face in his arm as he laughed and laughed and laughed, eventually raising his head when his own stomach started cramping to find Dex rolled away from him with his head in his hands, shoulders shaking, leaving his back and sides unprotected and Derek dived in to tickle him again just to make him shriek.

 

                                                                                     _X_

 

 

 Derek felt his ankle protest as he knelt for the third time, one of the twinges left over from a long slog of a season, but did not dwell on it, pressing his hands and forehead to the prickly smoothness of the mat, saying the words of the prayer quietly but carefully three times before kneeling again, shifting so his feet were in the right position under him, hands flat on his knees as he tried not to stumble over the words he did not say nearly enough. He was aware of eyes on him as he prostrated himself again, not hurrying through the _Salat_ like he used to do whenever he had prayed at Andover and could feel the guys in his dorm looking at him.

 He straightened, and instead of launching straight into the _Tashahhud_ like he should do he glanced over at the pile of blankets on Dex’s bed that shifted backwards when the eyes peaking out realised they’d been caught watching.

“Hey”, Derek said quietly, smiling as the blankets moved and Dex’s faced popped out of them.

“Hey. How many more _rakat’s_ you gotta do?” 

“Nearly done.”

 Dex sat up, keeping the blankets tightly wrapped around him in deference to the modesty Derek needed while he prayed, “You okay?”

 Derek opened his mouth then glanced down at his knees. Surprisingly he was. Usually he carried a sense of guilt and disconnection around when Ramadan was coming up, he could not fast even if he wanted to because he was taking medication and the sick could not fast. He did not know if he _would_ fast if he could, faith had never come easy to him, but he would like the ability to chose. And that’s why he was praying because the fraying ropes that kept him together were not so fragile this morning, and he didn’t do it as often as he should, as he needed to.

“Yeah, just felt like I needed to."

"Cool."

 Since they started dating he’d gone to church with Dex the couple of times he’d been, judging that if it was important enough for him to go then he wanted to be there as well. It wasn’t like he’d never been before, his parents let him explore and chose for himself if he wanted any faith or none and he supposed he still wasn’t certain yet, might never be, but praying with his ami and grandma had always made him feel peaceful, helped him to process things he thought he would always be too young to deal with.

 They hadn’t had a big theological talk, but Dex had been curious, always so curious, so Derek had explained prayer to him, the mechanics of Islam, the stuff he did not believe and the stuff he sometimes needed. Dex had taken it all in, accepted him _again,_ and wasn’t that a part of why he was praying? The person who’s buttons he’d pushed for two years, getting jabbed and snarled at in returned, was the person he’d found love and acceptance in, was the person he wanted to continue to grow with.

 When Dex visited him in New York over the summer Derek was going to introduce him to the Imam who had always helped him, knowing he’d take one look at this country boy with petulance and Protestantism in every line of his body and laugh, saying that Derek was once again kicking out his own path through life out of sheer determination. 

 He glanced back up at Dex who was rubbing at his eye with the back of his hand and smiled, they were perfectly suited in that way he supposed.

“I’m just finishing”, he said gently, smiling as Dex flopped back into his pillow, “you got a 9am you better get up”, Dex just grunted at that and Derek turned back towards the direction of The Holy Mosque in Mecca with a smile on his face.

  He recited what he needed to, then turned to greet the angel on his right that recorded his good deeds, and then the one on the left who recorded the bad with less of a clench of anxiety in his gut than usual.

 The bundle of blankets squeaked when he leant on it, peeling them back until Dex was blinking up at him, bleary eyed and hair all sticking up on end, “Good morning my love.”

“You can ‘my love’ me all you like you still gotta get up. You can't leave Chris to a 9am lab, he’ll poke check you for a million years.”

“Uuuuuuhhhhhh”, Dex groaned, rolling away from Derek and off the bed with a dull thunk.

“I’ll make you guys some breakfast,” Derek said as he watched Dex stumble towards the bathroom, smiling when he pivoted on the balls of his feet to pressed a kiss to the edge of Derek’s mouth.

“ _My love_ ”, he all but purred, eyes bright and smile slow, trailing a fingertip lightly over the line of Derek’s jaw before turning again and hurrying off with a louder, “My loooove”, sung over his shoulder.

 Derek felt peaceful and centred, the weights and worries he piled high on himself were lighter for the time being, and he was very, very happy.

 

                                                                                      _X_

 

 Things had been going well. Too well. And now, like he knew it would, it all caught up with him.

 He woke up groggy, which was nothing in itself, and stayed groggy, his thoughts wandering insubstantial things, concentration slipping through his fingers so he had to put actual effort into making his revision notes. Derek did not want to stop, he knew from experience that he was going to drop soon but it was _finals_. He had dispensation for his depression but using that had always felt, deep down, like special treatment. Rationally he knew it was fair, if he didn't have it his potential would never have been allowed to show, but he was a non-preppy black guy with a New York accent, he already knew what people thought of him being at a college like this.

  So he kept studying but more slowly and with more frequent breaks (he was being an idiot not totally fucking reckless) and got over half a day of revision in before, on the way to yet another study group, he dropped his drink. One moment it was in his hand the next it was slipping through his fingers to splatter all over the path and his shoes. Instead of swearing and huffing and muttering at himself in half acceptance/half embarrassment like he usually would, he felt sudden pressure build up behind his eyes, bubbling up in his chest, and he turned around to walk across campus to the Haus.

 It was mid-afternoon near the end of finals so it was empty and quiet, Derek not noticing how creepy that was for a place always so full of noise as he went straight up to his room, kicked off his wet shoes, and got straight into bed, curling up with his blankets over him and falling asleep so quickly that when he woke up with a dry throat and sore head he was not entirely sure he had even been asleep, let alone how long he had been out.

 The blankets were hot and heavy, his shirt itchy with sweat and he rolled onto his back, summing up the energy to go and shower while he was still bothered about the itch. It would have been so easy to give up on the way to the bathroom, to drop to the floor and let Dex or Chris find him and take care of him but he kept going, dropping his clothes as he went, not giving his future self a single thought as he tipped his head under the spray and soaked his hair.

 He stood in the middle of the room, naked and mostly dry, letting his hair drip water down his back and shoulders, looking at nothing, feeling nothing, trying to work out where the pressure of tears had gone and wishing they would come back.

 Dex’s laundry was sat on his bed, folded and ready to be put away, neat and organised just like the man, something about it churning in Derek’s chest, gnawing in his gut and he stumbled over to the pile, snatching a t-shirt from the top to shove his face into it. 

 It smelled of the same own brand detergent that everyone in the Haus used, of course it did, Dex hadn’t even worn it yet, that was a fucking stupid thing to do. It was the shirt of Dex’s high school team, stretched and misshapen from the width college Hockey gave his already strong arms and shoulders. It was also washed thin and soft so Derek tugged it on. Their styles and bodies were just different enough that their clothes always fit one another weirdly but this pinched under his arms, sat tight over his chest, did not come down far enough on his stomach and he had to pull it off, gasping like it had been suffocating him.

 It was made for a high-schooler, he told himself as he dug in the back of the closet for Dex’s hoodie. It was never going to fit him, it barely fit Dex, didn't even know why he still kept it, it had nothing to do with his weight, it _was_ nothing to do with his weight, and Dex’s hoodie would prove it.

  His sigh of relief surprised him when he pulled the hoodie on, shoving up the long sleeves and pulling down the hem that always sat too low on Dex. Derek sat down on his bed, suddenly exhausted, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. This room, that sometimes felt like it was shrinking around him, that was precariously laid out to accommodate two guys their size, was suddenly too big, too empty, too devoid of life.

 Eventually he tugged some boxers on and shuffled through the bathroom into Chris’ room, knowing from all the times he had done it before that he would not mind Nursey curling up with his Shark plushie for a while.

 He didn’t sleep again. He was fully aware of Cait poking her head around the door and moving quietly across the room to pull the hood down further over his face and tug the cool fabric of the coverlet over his legs, aware of her leaving and coming back with Chris, aware of Dex arriving a little while later, their voices hushed and movements soft. He was just...not there, had nothing to say, no motivation to move, it was all he could do to lay there with a stuffed shark hugged against his chest and keep breathing.

 When he finally moved again his hip was aching, back sore and his arm numb, fingers tingling. Blinking dry eyes he swallowed, whole head feeling dry and heavy, and peered at Cait sitting down by his feet with her laptop on her knees, over at Chris bent over a pile of papers at his desk, at the back of a head leaning against the side of mattress.

 Flopping forward to get his numb arm out from under him Derek reached out and brushed his fingertips through the thick red hair on the back of Dex’s head. He let out a hiss of surprise as he jumped, sucking his finger into his mouth where he had probably stabbed himself which Derek knew should make him laugh, maybe chirp Dex good-naturedly about him sewing up holes in everything. Dex shifted around until he could lay his cheek on the bed to look at Derek who was feeling something like gladness warm in his chest that he was not alone.

 They looked at one another, Dex doing his best not to look concerned and Derek doing his best to not look even more pathetic than a man who had just shut down for a couple of hours while wearing his boyfriends fucking Star Trek hoodie, until Derek managed something near a smile, hiding his face in the hood when Dex pulled his finger out of his mouth to smile back.

  You didn’t deserve smiles, he knew that. Sometimes you worked for them, sometimes they were freely given, sometimes they just bloomed beautifully, but they were some else's to give and yours to graciously take. Even so he did not feel like he deserved that smile from Dex, or the one pulling at Chris’ mouth when he peaked up at him, or the quick one Cait might give him if he looked back at her. He’d disrupted their study time, their evening, made them worried, added to the mess off stress they were all under, he _didn’t_ deserve one. Yet, when he looked back at Dex the smile was as warm as the rest of him and Derek finally felt the tears come.

 

                                                                                     _X_

 

 Derek stepped up onto the little platform, glad for the endless summer evenings that ended the need for stage lights shining into his face and making him sweat in his hairline and down the nape of his neck.

 The last poetry reading before the summer break, half a last chance for credit, half Literature Dept end of year drinks. Derek had missed last year because he was packing to move into the Haus, and his freshman one because he could not seem to get his brain working properly for months after finals, had felt like something had been sucked out of him, had not been able to leave his bed in Manhattan for a week.

 He was here now, which was what mattered, grinning at his friends spread out over the cafe and leaning on the frames of the flung open doors that allowed the party to spread outside onto the pavement and across to the park on the other side of the road.

“Good evening everybody”, he said, always surprised by how deep his voice sounded echoing out from the sound system next to him, “glad to make it at last, I’m sure you’ve all been dying to _finally_ hear what my poetry sounds like”, a laugh went around the room and he smiled, pleased that his stab at a self-deprecating joke had actually got a laugh.

“My poem, such as it is, is called Oranges”, he did not pause to let his friends react to that, holding his notebook out in front of him and going for it.

 

“Once it was the colour of too early mornings, little eyes barely used to the world blinking the colour from them, too busy looking down, looking right, looking where it was expected, looking where you were told, looking _safe_.

“Once it was the colour of too late nights. Burnt fingertips and sweet tasting tongues, life that was lived too fast because it was going to last forever. This feeling is going to last forever. This feeling is not going to last forever. This feeling died before it had even lived. _This_ feeling remains deep down, bitter. This feeling is nothing.

“Once it was home. The home of your blood. Half your blood. Three quarters. Sixty-two percent. All those people gone before turned into a decimal point, a code - 10147c, 7575cp- ‘Where are you _from’_ you are always asked, ‘no, where you’re actually _from’_ and even when you look over this land that is far, far too old for one drop in an ocean to ever comprehend, the answer is the same. Right here, where I stand.

“Once it was hate - no too simple. Once it was dislike - no too polite. Once it was aversion - no too vague. Once it was difference - no, not nuanced enough. Once it was team work - yeah, I suppose. Once it was a smile, a debate, a grudging respect, a routine, growth. Once it...was complicated.

“Then it was complacency in complicated. Then it was opening your eyes after not existing for an eternity that lasted no time at all to see it was kindness, to blink into that too early morning light and see that here is where you have met. Then it became a _finally_.

“Then it was a corner turned into sweet scented air and open arms, open when you rage, open when you are weak, open when the talking and the pills and the ‘do some exercise’ ‘write it down’ ‘be better’ do nothing and do nothing and do nothing until one day you start thinking you might _be_ nothing.

“Then it was seeing a glimpse of yourself in a mirror and realising you could not be nothing, because what you saw was real and alive. So determinedly alive and you are angry, because no-one ever told you that spite was all it took to make you put your shoes on in the morning.

“It is early mornings and late nights, it is laying on the floor because there is nothingness in you and because you’d rather be nowhere else. It’s decimal points that build from the ground up, not distilled down to all those handy little parts for a graph, for statistics. For a report. For a _point_.

“It’s blood on your knuckles because you realise violence can be a life lived defiantly. It’s feeling your skin fit you because that is what it is supposed to do. It’s skinned knee’s and knowing that it’s okay. It’s sitting in an emptiness and knowing it’s okay. It’s food turning to ash in your mouth, tears un-dammed, and knowing it’s okay.

“You are alive. The sun is in your eyes, your fingers are burnt, your heart cannot pick itself off the floor, you are a decimal point and you are alive. Gloriously made. And. Living.”

 

 He looked for Chris when he finished. His chair had fallen over from where he had bounded up, clapping and beaming with pride without one piece of self-consciousness about him, then over to Dex who caught his eye and pretend to cry as he clapped - big, over exaggerated silent sobs - that almost made Derek laugh as he turned to leave the stage. He glanced over again when he was coming down the steps and caught an unguarded look on Dex’s face, soft and quiet, as warm as Derek’s cheeks, as warm as his eyes, as warm as the golden evening that was on the other side of the window behind him, and Derek slipped down the last step. He kept his footing, heart pounding at the surprise, glad when he looked around that the crowd was too busy talking amongst themselves and getting drinks to notice, knowing from the gin on Chris’ face that he’d seen it.

“Now I know why you bugged me to look through Pantone colour codes!”, met him when he came within yelling range of where SMH were sat.

“Man, I don’t even _know_ how this fine is gonna be worked out man.”

“Was that about Dex?”

“Brah you’re like, wicked talented. Like I knew, but bro!”

“The statistics bit really got me.”

“Dude, super real.”

 Derek smiled at them as slipped past ass pats, stepping over his empty seat to hold Dex’s face in his hands so he could look at him, letting himself be looked right back at with warm confusion, “That was amazing D, I’m really proud of you”, Dex's hand rested lightly on Derek’s thigh, “for the poem and for all the stuff that got it written.”

“Did you like it?”

“ ‘Course I did, it’s about you isn’t it?”, he said, his attempt at being smooth ruined by the flush rushing to his cheeks.

“I might rework it a bit. Needs a new name I think”, Derek said, straightening.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe call it Piglet”, he teased, holding in a laugh when Dex’s eyes bugged then narrowed up at him.

“Fuck. You.”

 Derek laughed, hugging Dex to him so his temple was against Derek’s stomach, long arms loosely circling his legs to hold him back.  

“Do I need to fine you guys again?”, Chris chirped across the table.

“We’re having a discussion about meter.”

 Chris did not look convinced, leaning back in his seat as he pointed at Derek, “Next poem better be called Teal.”

“Teal? It’s a deal!” Derek grinned, snapping finger guns at Chris to a chorus of groans from everyone and a dirty look from a couple the next table over.

 

                                                                                      _X_

 

 In Derek’s ideal world he would stay in the Haus with Dex over summer, exploring Massachusetts, taking trips to Maine and Long Island to visit family, living off Derek’s allowance, sitting in the yard in the evenings and enjoying the emptiness of campus in the summer.

 But Dex needed to work, needed to do his internship, needed to look after his niece, just like Derek had to. It wasn’t the work Derek was shy of, or being cheap childcare, nor was it being away from Dex - they had visits planned and there was skype and video calls and all that shit  - he just wanted some peace. Stillness.

 Well, he thought it was that until he straightened from fighting with the zip of his suitcase and spotted the drip feeder Dex had rigged up to keep their little pot of cacti and succulents (Rameses III and the Joey Spikebys) alive over break. What if the drip feeder broke? What if it was a wet summer and the window was too cold for them? What if it fell off the sill? Shit like that did happen. What if the lack of care killed them? What...what if they couldn’t survive the summer...

 He stood and walked out of the room, stopping at the top of the stairs. He could hear Dex clanging around in the kitchen getting dinner started but he wanted him up here. Derek was not usually demanding, actively tried not to be, but he needed him upstairs, needed Dex with him in their room where they were safe. 

“Billy”, he called down the stairs, knowing that name would get an immediate answer, and did not have to wait long before Dex’s head poked out of the kitchen.

“What?”

“Can- please can you come up here?”

“Uuuhh gimme a sec ”, he disappeared back into the kitchen and Derek had to stop himself from being a brat and only giving him one second before calling for him again. Soon Dex was hopping up the stairs, taking the last two steps slowly as he gave Derek a wary look, “What’s happened?”

 Derek swallowed, “I’m gonna miss you”, it was a silly thing to say, and he knew that if his face had not been telegraphing the fear corded tight in his gut that Dex would have thought he was fucking with him.

 He withstood the soft look Dex gave him, taking the hand held out to him a little desperately and let himself be led back into the middle of all their suitcases, mounds of old notes, and bags of trash, Dex holding Derek’s face gently in his hands as he let his forehead rest gently against his, “We’ll speak every day. Summer will go by so fast. But I’ll miss you too, so much.”

 He had never been adored by someone before but the way Dex always looked content around him, so happy when they were snuggled up together talking shit, unable to stop smiling even when Derek was chirping him, was as close to it as he had ever been. Losing that would not break him, but the thought of letting it slip through his fingers was too horrible to bear. Derek reached out to grip Dex’s t-shirt, swaying into him as a wave of apprehension swept over him.

“I’m sorry Dexy, my anxiety...”

“Okay, okay”, Dex said calmly, “We know it’s not gonna be a walk in the fucking park. But I’ll work at it, and you work at it, and that’s all we can do.”, he gently kissed Derek's stubbled cheek, “I don’t plan on ending this, and I know you don’t either. I’m not even worried about you being around all those trust fund pretty people out in Long Island.”

“Am I trust fund pretty?”  Derek smiled a little hollowly, angling his body closer when Dex let his hands slip down so he could scratch his nails lightly over the back of Derek’s neck.

“No", he swallowed, “Better.”

 Derek felt his ears burn at the uncomplicated honesty of that, pressing his face into Dex’s shoulder to get himself under control, “I’ll try not to fret about a, I dunno...fisheries heir or whatever snapping you up." 

“You’re the only one who finds engine oil and seaweed a turn on babe, don't worry.”

“Even someone who works in Lobster?” 

“Even them.”

 “I love you”, Derek breathed, shifting back when Dex began running his fingertips over Derek’s arm, skimming down his chest to press his fingers against the slight swell of his tummy, catching his breath when Dex leant in to kiss his neck.

“ _I_ love _you_.”

 He decided he didn’t want to think about this any more. They were strong, he loved Dex despite his dramatics and moods and times when he just would not back the fuck down, not one inch. And Dex loved him even when he didn’t work, when he couldn’t take anything seriously, when the side-effects of those meds that kept his head above the water made him frustrated, made him vicious. 

 This wasn’t going to be like last summer, with the drinking, the sense of uselessness, the aching loneliness, just functioning sometimes taking up all his energy. He would try to find one thing a day he could tell Dex about, try to improve and get ready for next year and next season so he could surprise himself with how well he was doing. Missing Dex was not going to be an excuse to go back on all the progress he had made, it would insult the both of them.

“Hey baby, lay down”, he said softly in that tone Dex seemed to be helpless against, watching him as he toed his shoes off to lay down on Derek’s stripped bed, “I’m gonna try and lose a couple pounds and stay at that weight until pre-season”, he announced and Dex nodded at him, well practised in accepting the twist and turns of his thoughts, “You’ll train with me? Well not _with_ with, along with. Keep an eye on me. You can get even more swol so I can safely faint into your arms.”

 Dex snorted, “Yeah okay. I’ll bug you about it over snapchat if you bug me too.”

 Derek nodded, putting the miles that would soon be between them at the back of his mind as he crawled onto his bed and lay himself out on top of Dex who did not seem to mind that he was even heavier than usual, tucking his head against his warm chest to listen to his always steady heartbeat, feeling a tension seep out of them both.

 

 

 

.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just after I wrote the hoodie bit I saw this amazing as always [ artwork by angery ginger](https://angeryginger.tumblr.com/post/164934241237/just-know-that-as-i-was-drawing-this-shelly-and-i) and I yelled. I'm linking it here for the sake of shared nurseydex vibes.
> 
>  Also [ this other artwork](https://angeryginger.tumblr.com/post/158443536502/derekbaby-you-gotta-stop-teasing-please) of her's is very relevant.
> 
> Derek's dad is based on the first time I my best friends mum (I was Chris ).
> 
> I had a much less clunky title for this, but then I remembered this quote and honestly - how could I not?  
> ”When you go after honey with a balloon, the great thing is not to let the bees know you’re coming.” A.A.Milne, Winnie-the-pooh.
> 
> I apologise for the sad lack of bathrooms in this, I couldn't stay totally on brand.


End file.
